


The Eighty-Seventh Folder in FRIDAY's Blackmail Footage of Peter Parker

by TheOceanIsMyInkwell



Series: I'm Peter, I'm 19 and I Never Learned to Read [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Peter is recovering from a Spider-Man related incident but it's not important, Tony and May are the best co-parents, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, literally so much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22154527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOceanIsMyInkwell/pseuds/TheOceanIsMyInkwell
Summary: “Guess I should be glad my relationship with Peter doesn’t gothatfar back,” May admits, with a reluctant little laugh under her breath.Tony sniffs. “It definitely goes far back enough that he’s picked upyourhumor. And taste for pizza.”“I will not take flak from you for the pineapples, Stark.”The man flashes her a charming smile. “Not my intention, Ms. Parker. Would never dream of doing that to you, Ms. Parker.”“Flattery will never earn my forgiveness for putting my nephew in tights.”“Okay, first of all--” Tony holds up a finger. “He was the one who said that aerodynamics are key in his webslinging gig.”“Try telling me that every time I get a close-up shot of hisbuttonnational TV--” May cuts herself off with a wide-eyed look and an aborted grin, almost as if she’s just realized the kind of joke that left her mouth while the two of them are holding vigil over the aforementioned spider-teen’s butt on the bed between them.--A very painkiller-ridden Peter confronts Tony for only kissing him goodnight when he thinks he's asleep. May is a traitorous accomplice.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: I'm Peter, I'm 19 and I Never Learned to Read [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1394110
Comments: 42
Kudos: 483





	The Eighty-Seventh Folder in FRIDAY's Blackmail Footage of Peter Parker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [josywbu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/josywbu/gifts).



> This started out as a drabble prompt fill and, predictably, ran away from me. So my natural response was to file this into the college!Peter series as a standalone oneshot because it deserves to be recognized as the pile of tooth-rotting domestic fluff that it is.
> 
> For josywbu, who sent in [prompt #148 on tumblr](https://theoceanismyinkwell.tumblr.com/post/189721940158/drabble-challenge-1-150): "Why do you only kiss me when I'm asleep?"
> 
> Changed the wording a bit to fit Peter's vernacular. Without further ado, enjoy this plotless marshmallow!!

“He looks so young like this.”

“What, hopped up on morphine and drool on his cheek?”

May doesn’t even dignify Tony’s snark with a complete roll of her eyes. She kicks off her bunny slippers to prop her bare feet up on the edge of Peter’s bed, reclining the rest of her body in the armchair at the kid’s side. She shuts her eyes for a moment and folds her hands over her stomach. Then she mumbles, “They only ever look young when they’re drooling.”

Tony lets out an inelegant snort. “Right. Yeah. I sure do miss Morgan burping all over my shoulder. Oh, I’m sorry, I meant _throwing up_. Those were the good ol’ days, weren’t they.”

May pops open one eye to shoot him an unimpressed look. It’s moments like this that Tony finds himself a tiny bit speechless at the family resemblance between her and Peter. Sure, she and the kid may not technically share any DNA, but years spent together hanging up disastrous Christmas decorations, racing each other to the smoke alarm at dinnertime and bickering in the store over which brand of mashed potatoes to toss in the cart does tend to make people start to develop the same inflections and facial expressions. Tony’s mind flits for a second to how Pepper picked up the finger-drumming habit from him only a year into their relationship, and how just the other day he caught Mo-mo doing it, too.

“Guess I should be glad my relationship with Peter doesn’t go _that_ far back,” May admits, with a reluctant little laugh under her breath.

Tony sniffs. “It definitely goes far back enough that he’s picked up _your_ humor. And taste for pizza.”

“I will not take flak from you for the pineapples, Stark.”

The man flashes her a charming smile. “Not my intention, Ms. Parker. Would never dream of doing that to you, Ms. Parker.”

“Flattery will never earn my forgiveness for putting my nephew in tights.”

“Okay, first of all--” Tony holds up a finger. “He was the one who said that aerodynamics are key in his webslinging gig.”

“Try telling me that every time I get a close-up shot of his _butt_ on _national TV_ \--” May cuts herself off with a wide-eyed look and an aborted grin, almost as if she’s just realized the kind of joke that left her mouth while the two of them are holding vigil over the aforementioned spider-teen’s butt on the bed between them.

Tony’s eyes meet hers, and they share a full second of mortified silence before the tension cracks and they erupt in fits of breathless giggles.

“Oh--my God--” May flops over on her face on the duvet with her hair and arms fanned out as she struggles to catch some air. “Oh my God. Tell me FRIDAY was not recording that.”

“What d’you think?”

May lifts her head infinitesimally to glare at him, but only succeeds at choking on a lock of her own hair. She blows the strands from her face impatiently.

“Stark.”

“May.”

“ _Tony_.”

“Of course she was recording,” Tony says sweetly. “What do you take her for?”

“An Irish busybody,” May shoots back. “If you show him that recording, I swear to God I will make Rhodey pull out all the pre-80s albums and _then_ you’ll be done for.”

“Oh no,” Tony says in a monotone. “Oh, dear.”

That prompts the two of them to have another round of their staring contest, during which their mouths most definitely do not twitch. And then May releases the most amphibian-sounding snort in existence.

“Oh, Lordy,” May wheezes. “I need a tea, after all your nonsense. Want one?” She pulls herself up with a crick and a stretch and stuffs her feet back into her slippers, already halfway to the bedroom door before turning around.

“I’m good. Grab me the macaroons, though, will ya?”

As soon as May disappears with a nod and a click of the doorknob, Tony looks back at Peter. He heaves a sigh.

“Kid,” he mutters, “I swear you’ll do me in one day.”

A couple of heartbeats tick by as Tony watches the rise and fall of Peter’s breaths under his graphic tee that is askew beneath the duvet. The kid’s right hand is clenched in a fist that Tony knows from experience will make his arm ache in the morning. Softly, a little hesitantly, he reaches forward to pry Peter’s fist open without jostling him awake. 

Tony’s gaze then lands, unwillingly, on the IV stuck in Peter’s left arm on the other side of the bed. This may not be the first time he’s found himself in this exact same setup--far from it--but the little shock that jolts through Tony at the sight of the teen inert from the painkillers never loses its edge. Not even after all these years.

Most especially since Peter got back from his first year at MIT, where he admitted (to the muted horror of nearly all the adults around the dinner table) that he ended up falling asleep in all sorts of weird chairs and buildings seven nights out of ten.

(No, Tony absolutely does not relate to that experience, what kind of irresponsible twit do you take him for?)

The man lets out a soft huff and a shake of his head to himself as he reflects on how unreal it feels, that Peter is in college now. _College_.

And even after all these years, he still insists on spending half of his Thanksgiving break swinging around the city in his spandex instead of doing normal college kid things like sleeping and bingeing Netflix and eating Tostitos with peanut butter ( _a conversation for another century, Parker_ ) and, oh, that’s right, _sleeping_.

And no, Tony did not want to see Peter finally conked out because of an ill-timed explosion and a well-televised collision with a skyscraper.

Peter stirs in his sleep and his brow furrows in that adorable way it does when he’s probably having another self-sacrificial teenage dream. Tony smirks. And then the next thing he knows, he is in no control of his body whatsoever and he finds himself scooting his ottoman closer and pressing a kiss to Peter’s hairline.

Tony’s lips linger there a few seconds longer than necessary. Just as he pulls away, his poor heart suffers a triple flip-flop behind his ribs at the sight of the kid’s eyes blinking open. They stare each other like that--a half-guilty, half-knowing suspension of breaths between them, Tony’s eyes wide against Peter’s slits--and then a lazy little smile upturns the corners of Peter’s mouth.

“How come you only kiss me when I’m asleep?”

“Dunno what you’re talking about.” Tony’s voice is gravelly. Still, to his credit, he hasn’t budged a millimeter from his position leaned halfway over Peter’s torso.

“Mm,” Peter mumbles. His eyes drift closed for a bit, then open again. “Must’ve been a dream, I guess.”

Tony thinks he might be choking, maybe, from how the vines of softness and love are intertwining around his heart.

He goes for a flippant jest. “Yup. You’ve got a crazy imagination in that there noggin. Must be all the concussions.”

Even though Peter’s lids are shut again, Tony swears he can tell the kid is rolling his eyes at him.

Peter smirks, then, that special brand of _I’m gonna be a little shit and I know you can’t call me out on it this time because I’m high on so many drugs right now_. (It’s a look Tony gets from him more often than one would think.) “Sooo...is that why you’re leaning over me like some Voldemort?”

Tony most definitely, assuredly, adamantly does not cackle at that.

Rather than lean back, he collapses forward onto the bed, knocking Peter’s shoulder a bit and earning him the most half-hearted _ow_ in the history of teenage dramatics. As Tony buries his face in the crook of the kid’s neck, he reaches up blindly to mess with his curls.

“Ow, ow, _ow_ , Tony. _Tony!_ Not today, I’m an _invalid_!”

Tony still manages to get in a ruthless tousle with the top of Peter’s head before the kid gathers the wherewithal to swerve away. This time Peter’s fully awake and squinting at him to clearly let him know how unimpressed he is with the man’s antics.

“Imma tell Dr. Cho.”

Tony snickers. “You’re really out of it if you think Dr. Cho’s still in the facility. I sent her off on her turkey date.”

“Fine, then, May.”

“Oh, webhead, Aunt Cannellini is _definitely_ on my side. We were just plotting how to lock you up on the Tower for the rest of Thanksgiving break.”

“You can’t--you can’t just go and Rapunzel me!” Peter splutters.

“Oh yes, we can, and oh, yeah, we already did.” Tony flicks his gaze toward the ceiling. “Ain’t that right, FRI, baby girl?”

“Yes, Boss. Peter is not allowed off the premises until he, and I quote, drinks his milk and takes his vitamins and has enough kiddie naps to last twenty lifetimes.”

Peter’s mouth pinches. “You’re the worst person in the world.”

“Oh, in that case, no more bedtime kisses for you.”

“Ha! So you _did_ kiss me.”

“Kid, last time I checked, healing from a full-body slam into the Marriott Hotel involves a lot less talking and a lot more snoring.”

“Oh, yeah, you would know a whole lot about snoring, wouldn’t you?”

Tony slaps a hand over Peter’s mouth. As the boy pretends to struggle, Tony raises a hand dramatically to his ear. “Hm? What’s that, Spider-Menace? Oh! You think I’m the _best_ person in the whole entire world?”

May choose that exact moment to kick the door open and shuffle in, laden with teacups, macaroons and an extra blanket. “What’re we up to now, Tony?”

Tony meets her gaze with utmost innocence. “Putting the baby arachnid to sleep. I was just telling him a real boring story about who’s the best Avenger, actually.”

“Lemme just set these down on the table and I’ll help you...put him to sleep,” May says deviously.

Peter’s eyes widen. He finally knocks the hand covering his mouth and sputters, “Aunt M-May!”

“Oh, it’s payback, Peter,” says May. She crawls onto the bed and nears Peter’s other side with what can only be described as a terrifyingly sweet smile.

“Please, _please_ tell me FRI isn’t recording this!”

Tony rolls over onto his back to holler at the ceiling: “FRIDAY, please tell me you’re recording this.”

“Affirmative, Boss.”

The last thing that the dutiful AI picks up on her feed is Peter slapping both hands over his face with a barely contained shriek before Tony and May attack his cheeks with kisses.

And of course the footage does not make its way onto that year’s holiday card. Not at all. What do you take Iron Man for?

**Author's Note:**

> Idk, man, I just really enjoy Tony and May torturing their spider-baby with hugs and kisses. And this is set years into the future when Tony has learned to let up on the emotional constipation, so he's having a field day with showing his love for his adopted genius gremlin.
> 
> Reactions will be much welcomed and long squealed over! Have some cookies to celebrate a belated New Year! Yeah!! Positive vibes all around and I love you! <3 -kaleb
> 
> muh tumblr: theoceanismyinkwell  
> muh insta: kc.barrie


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